Continuance (29 page)

Jason gave him a
skeptical look. “How can you create a portable version of Chariot when the
room-sized one you already have doesn’t even work right? Noise is still keeping
us from getting nominal resolution.” But as he studied their faces, he realized
something was off. “Am I missing something here?”

Dr. Fairchild’s expression
was a close to smug as he’d ever seen her. “There never was any noise, Jason.”

Was she joking
with him? “That’s how you figured me out, remember? It was so bad during that
first imaging run with Stuart I had to use perks to compensate. And we still
didn’t get a good neuromap.”

“That was the
point,” she said. “A simple algorithm in Chariot’s emitter control software. It
varies the alignment randomly, causing instability in the imaging field.”

Understanding
dawned. Jason had to hand it to them. The plan was brilliant. “It was all just
an excuse to get at Arkive. The resolution problems. Using the neuromaps to
train the AI. All of it.” Jason looked from Dr. Fairchild to Darren, seeing the
confirmation on their faces. “You didn’t just hijack it. You
sabotaged
it
to keep it from working.”

“Oh, it works,”
she said. “The truth is, Chariot performs to spec – even without all the trappings
in the lab. The sedation field, immobilization with the retroweave suit – it’s
all just window dressing. You could probably tap dance on the platform and still
get a perfect scan.”

Darren rose,
pacing near the table with a slow measured pace as he spoke. “Chrysalis has two
main objectives. You’re a beneficiary of the first – to continue those already
interred in Arkive. And while we’re doing that, the second is to make continuance
so accessible that proliferation becomes inevitable. A situation that would force
an eventual lift of the Moratorium.” He paused, looking out over the vineyard,
hands behind his back. “Our efforts in the Chariot lab helped accomplish both.
We got access to Arkive, and at the same time, we created a device that allows
neuromapping
before
death.” He turned to Jason. “Now you have a chance
to help us take things to the next phase.”

Jason nodded,
trying to think it through. But he’d already made his decision. The spiders had
made it for him when they Arkived Ivory. “It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t. Not
yet.” As one, Darren and the professor pinned him with sharp looks.

“You can’t put
this off, Jason. There’s no time.” The way Dr. Fairchild spoke, she could have
been his mother dressing him down for having mud on his shoes. “This is a good
option for you. Give…”

Jason cut her
off. “I’m tired of running from them. You’re not continued, but I think you’re
tired of running, too. What if there’s a second option? A chance to put them on
their heels for a while?”

“I told you
we’re just at the beginning here,” Darren said. “We have to be patient. It’ll
be years before we can make a political move against the DIA.”

The pieces had
been tumbling around in Jason’s mind as they talked. Now, like tumblers in a
lock, they fell into place. They’d use the spiders’ own plans against them. Jason
finished his wine, feeling determined as he met their eyes.

“I’m not talking
about a political move,” he said. “I’m talking about blackmail.”

The M3 sped
along on autonav, and Jason followed Chaela’s gaze to the array of hover floods
floating in the distance like a string of pearls against the night sky. Most
hung motionless, forming an elongated grid above a quarter-mile stretch of
straightaway, blanketing the track and the stands in an ocean of light.

“Is that it?”
Chaela asked? “Bigger place than I expected.”

“Yeah” Jason
said.

She’d obviously
meant the question to spark some conversation, but even as Jason groped for
something to say to elaborate, the words slipped away like water through a
sieve.

I shouldn’t have
brought her.
It was the only thought that would stay in his mind more than a few seconds.

The drive from
Everton had taken about twenty minutes, and for a while, Jason had managed to
hold up his end of the conversation. They chatted about the Chariot lab
shutting down, about school, and then just whatever came to mind. But the
closer they got to Anza Borrego, the more on-edge he felt. With the track in
sight, growing on the dark horizon, the reality of what he was about to face
forced other thoughts from his mind. The spiders would be there waiting for
him. He felt like a rabbit walking into a snare, hoping to catch the hunters.

Chaela’s presence
made Jason’s unease even worse. He shouldn’t have allowed her to come, he knew
– should have made some excuse to keep her away and let things end before they
went any further. No matter what happened tonight with the DIA or Chrysalis, it
was too dangerous for her to be near him. That much was clear now, and should
have been from the beginning. But when the hour to pick her up came, Jason
still hadn’t cancelled. Instead, he’d driven to her apartment, telling himself
he’d make his excuses in person.

When she’d
answered the door, he’d felt an instant of panic, thinking perhaps he’d shown
up at the wrong address. But the attractive woman in the black V-neck and heels
really was Chaela – a very different Chaela from the jeans-and-lab-coat version
he was used to seeing every day. Any lies or apologies about forgetting to
arrange for her ticket evaporated, and he found himself complimenting her
outfit, asking if she was ready to go.

As the silence
lengthened, she leaned forward, exploring the controls on the dash. With her auburn
hair swirled to rest atop her head in an up-do fit for a formal, pale light
from the distant hoverfloods played along the curve of her neck.

“What’s this
one?” she pointed at a small control cluster near the autonav.

“That’s part of
the entertainment system. You’re probably used to the new stuff with individual
photoscreen projection for each passenger. This one just plays a vid on the
HUD. You can watch one if you want, but we’re a little close up here. The best
view is from the back seat.”

 She narrowed
her eyes at him, unsure how to take the comment. What he told her was true,
though he
had
used it as a ploy before, usually with passable results. But
why he was slipping into that old routine now, when he really needed to
distance himself from her?

Chaela cleared
her throat and turned back to the track, much closer now. “Looks like it could
hold a small town.” Jason permitted himself a small smile. Even in the dim
light, he caught the hint of color in her cheeks. “Will it be crowded?” She
craned her neck to take in the view.

They were still
half a mile from the gates, but the stands along the straightaway loomed large,
even at this distance. A race was already in progress. Other hoverfloods, in
ones, twos, or clusters of more, cut deceptively slow arcs across the night as
they followed their assigned car around the speedway. Nimble and silent on
their repulsors, they kept the track lit, not only for the drivers, but also their
airborne counterparts - the squadrons of hovercams broadcasting real-time feeds
back to the colossal photoscreens fronting the stands.

 “Not tonight,”
Jason said. When the bigger pro circuits made stops at Anza-Borrego, the head
count might hit a hundred thousand or so, but for open amateur events like this,
the crowd would be a fraction of its capacity. “And your ticket’s in the front
section, so you should have your pick of good seats.”

The car slowed as
the HUD flashed a notification. The four-lane blacktop leading to the main
entrance marked the end of the autonav network’s reach, and Jason took the
wheel as the car transitioned to manual.

“So do you
always get all Zen like this before a race?” She made her tone light but he
could hear a slight edge in the undercurrent. “You’ve barely said five words
over the last half hour.”

He gave her a
smile he hoped was reassuring. “Look,” he nodded through the windshield ahead.
“We’re coming up on the staging area. You should find it interesting. On
amateur nights, it’s part pit area, part car show, and all party.”

Countless trips
down the access road had made the approach to the speedway as familiar as
turning onto his own street. But there was always something intoxicating about
arriving at night. The crowds milling around the gate to the pit area, watching
the drivers arrive. The heats in full swing. The smell of rubber and oil, the
whine of electric motors. It was a mix that never failed to make Jason’s blood
race a little faster, a little hotter.

Pedestrians –
most of them dressed to make Chaela look like she was on an outing to the
public library – grew thick in front of them. Jason slowed the car to a crawl, rolling
the windows down. The low-end bass throb of music poured in from several
directions at once, each competing to carry through the open windows first. And
then there were the cars. Sleek and muscular, they sat parked in row upon row,
hoods up and doors open in an exhibition of automotive brawn not unlike the exhibition
of flesh intermingling around and between.

He guided the
car through it all at a snail’s pace as the press of onlookers milled around on
all sides. When he paused a moment to let several people pass in front, a
blonde in transparent heels gave them a long, appreciative look.

“Sexy for an antique.” She leaned close
to the window, hands on the door. “What year?” C-shaped strips of silver holo-lamé
clung to each shoulder, growing narrower as they curved down her front to circle
beneath her arms. The top covered the key parts between, but only just, and it
left her chest exposed down the center from neck to navel.

“Thanks,” Jason
said. “It’s a ’47.” He could feel Chaela’s stare from passenger seat. With an
effort, he kept his eyes pointed at the girl’s face. Despite her outfit, she
couldn’t have been more than seventeen.

The blonde
giggled. “Not the car. Your girl.” She darted a contemptuous look at Chaela,
then a more inviting one at Jason. But before he could reply, a muscular guy
with dark skin and a shaved head shouted something suggestive. She turned away
smiling, Jason and his antiques already forgotten. Jason watched her fade into
the crowd.

“It’s not too
late to offer her a ride,” Chaela said. “I’m sure we could find room somewhere.
Maybe my lap?” Her arched eyebrow implied a rope tied to the bumper was
probably more in line with her thinking. Sometimes – not often, but sometimes –
he missed the clarity of thought afforded by a body less troubled with young
impulses.

The way ahead
cleared enough to move on, and he guided the car through the press, some of the
bystanders still giving the M3 appraising double-takes as they passed. When
they got to the check-in area, a man in baggy khaki pants and a backward
Chargers ball cap jogged over to meet them.

“You made it,
man!” Ty clasped Jason’s hand as he squatted outside the door. “And with a
co-pilot, no less. Nice.” He bobbed his head up and down, smiling at Chaela.

“Ty’s the guy
who knows what’s what around here,” Jason told her before turning to Ty. “So
what does it look like tonight? Am I running against Knight?”

In the
recording, Neal had laid out his plan. They’d plant a waveform inhibitor on
each of the other cars in Jason’s heat. Designed to cause harmonic interference
in the motor’s current, they’d activate it for any car running too close to
Jason, causing a power fall-off. He’d have his blowout win, and they’d bring him
in with evidence for perks. If Ty knew what he was talking about, the car
running closest would be Craig Knight’s.

Ty nodded. “You
guys are on the pole together. You already know he’s kind of a tool on the
track, so watch out.” He swiped a handheld SLIDe over Jason’s arm, and the bioprint
registered with a chirp. Then he tilted his head, beckoning Jason from the car.
“That does for the driver, but I need you to hop out while I get your ride
checked in.”

Ty took his
place in the driver seat, looking at the readouts on the HUD. When Chaela moved
to open her door, he grinned at her. “No need to evacuate. I’m a professional.”

“Just don’t get
too comfortable in there, Mr. Professional” Jason said.

“Are you really
gonna give me grief over a two-minute fantasy here?” Ty leaned back in the seat,
putting an arm around Chaela.

She gave Ty a
considering look. “I don’t know, Jason. At least he’s talkative.”

Ty darted a
glance between them before busying himself on a datapad, a tiny smile turning
up a corner of his mouth. His left hand fluttered over the car’s controls while
his right did the same on the datapad. He paused, scrunching his face at the
readout. “Weird. Autonav mileage doesn’t match the grid logs.” Before Jason
could stop him, Ty popped open the center console and slid back the panel. His
eyes widened, taking in the blue and red controls for the autonav override. He
peered out the window at Jason with a look of mock reproach. “Been having a
little fun out there without the digital leash?”

“More fun for
some than others.” Jason spared a glance at Chaela, remembering what had
happened the last time he’d used the override. He leaned across Ty and closed
the panel.